Point at Infinity
by Rozozzy
Summary: Max meets Rachel Amber in Seattle without even knowing it.


It's a familiar scene, but it's always different. Different lighting, different angles, different vibes. It doesn't matter how many times Max captures this city; there's always something fresh about each take, something new each time. Soft orange and crimson and golden hues streak the blazing sky like fine paintbrush strokes. Skyscrapers and the Space Needle tower high, and the waters of Elliott Bay shimmer with the rising sun.

It's breathtaking. Max takes the shot, and she soaks in this moment and the city and everything that comes with it. Kerry Park is a kickass spot.

"That's a sick camera you got there," someone says, and Max's eyes shoot open wide. She can feel herself being shattered out of her peaceful trance and dragged back to reality.

Max turns around, clutching her camera close to her chest. The person facing her seems like a girl around her own age. She's in a hooded denim jacket and black fitted jeans. Large, black sunglasses conceal her face, and her blonde hair is thrown up in a messy bun.

"Thanks," Max says, and she feels pretty lame because that's the only response she can conjure.

The girl takes a step forward. "Don't really see polaroids around anymore," she says. "They're old school, but fucking rad. You've got your own style and you rock it. I can tell."

Max glances down at her camera, feeling the corners of her mouth nudge into smile. The girl takes a few more steps towards her. Max feels awkward just standing there, saying nothing. She places her camera inside her messenger bag. When she looks up, she is startled to find the girl distanced within arm's reach. The girl has a hand on her hip and a wide grin perched on her face.

"Sit with me for a little bit, yeah?"

Max doesn't know what to say, so she says, "Sure."

They're sitting on wet grass and watching the early morning kick in, but it's strangely tranquil despite Max's damp pants and the fact that she's right beside a complete stranger. She catches the mystery girl stealing little peeks at her here and there, and Max can't help but do the same. The girl leans back onto the grass, extending her arms above her head and stretching out her legs.

"You born and raised here?" the girl asks.

"No," Max says. "I moved here about four years ago."

The girl hums. "Interesting. Why'd ya move here?"

Max adjusts her legs and looks out into the city. "I needed a change of pace," she says. "I wanted to escape my hometown and grow as a photographer. I couldn't do that there. But here, I really feel like I can thrive."

The girl rolls her head to the side, facing Max. "You ever miss your hometown?"

"Sometimes," Max says. "It's got childhood memories and my past, and those things will remain there. But Seattle, I've made it my home. I think roots are important, but finding where you really belong is something incredible on its own." Max inhales a long breath and blows it out through her nose like a soft whistle.

The girl bobs her head. "Man, you're living the fucking dream," she says. She swivels her head to face the sky. "Props to you. Takes a whole lotta balls to drop everything you know for someplace unfamiliar. Hella scary, but also exciting."

"Yeah." Max's lips purse together, and she too leans back against the grass, sliding her knees up and placing her hands on her stomach. She watches the clouds float above her, feathered wisps of cotton against the backdrop of the sky.

Her chest aches with guilt that boils inside her like rising heat. She remembers a simpler time, a happier time, a time where it had been two pirates against the world with nothing except their imaginations to limit them. Back then, she had someone she could truly call a friend. Back then. Far away. The past is so distant yet so comforting, and yet she had traded it.

And Max misses it, misses _her_. She does. Truly. So why is it so hard to keep in touch, to send one phone call or write a single letter? And why had it been so easy to leave without a trace, without saying goodbye? Max doesn't know, but deep down she's afraid that she does.

Tomorrow, she'll call. Maybe. Or not. It has been so long that perhaps it doesn't matter anymore. They're different people now. She's different. It could never go back to what it was. Could it? Tomorrow, Max tells herself. Tomorrow. Perhaps. Another day gone by. Another month. Another year.

Max looks over at the girl and tilts her head. "What brought you to Seattle?" she asks.

"Mmm, kinda the same reason as you," she says. "I needed to get away. Explore. Just for a little while, though. That's the good and bad side of a vacation. It's temporary. I can put my life on hold and come back to it whenever I feel like it." She sighs. "It's nice, going where no one knows me and I can just be… real."

Max's eyes widen slightly. "Real?" she asks. "What do you mean by that?"

The girl clicks her tongue. "No masks. No walls. It's fucking liberating. Don't have to worry about people liking or not liking the shit that I do or say. I can unapologetically be me. No repercussions." She lifts up her right knee. "Back home, it's cool and all. The parties are fun and shit's lit. But once you hang with the same people over and over again, they expect certain things from you or you to behave a certain way. You know what I mean? I've built a rep and now I gotta maintain it. It's exhausting as hell."

"Why go through all that trouble?" Max asks her. "If they're your friends, you shouldn't have to hide yourself from them."

The girl lets out a loose chuckle and shakes her head. "They're not _really_ what I'd call friends," she says. "Just people I kick back with every now and then. Nothing wrong with that, but they're not people I'd trust to have my back."

Max stares at her with incredulous eyes. "Why hide yourself, then?" she asks. "If they're not your friends, why does it matter?"

"Image," the girl says, and Max can feel her looking straight into her eyes, "is everything. If a majority of the people around you don't like you, then you're fucked. It's gonna make it that much harder to get through life. But if a majority of people think you're hot shit, you get a lotta respect, and that goes far. I know, I know. There should be a balance of presenting yourself one way and actually _being yourself._ But, I don't know. I'm really good at projecting myself a certain way. And like I said, it's draining. But it's got its perks, and I'm cruising, even if the cost is myself."

Max takes a moment to pause. She gives the girl a subtle nod. "Yeah," she finally says. "I can appreciate that, I think. Though I don't exactly agree with it."

This elicits a short laugh from the girl, and she grins and wide-toothed grin. "Tell me, photographer," she says, "how do you feel about your own image?"

Max blinks. No one has ever asked that before, not even when Max has shown friends some of her selfies, and Max has never pondered that herself. And now, this girl… this mysterious, fascinating girl, poses the question to her without ever seeing any of her works. It's as if this girl knows something about her, as if this girl can somehow peer into her soul.

"I take selfies," Max says, hesitant and meek and not really answering the question. She scratches the back of her neck and releases a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"Oh?" the girl says, cocking her head. "Do you take a shitton?"

Max can feel her cheeks tint a pale pink. "Y-yeah. I do."

The girl swings one leg over the other and brings her arms to her sides. "Hmm," she says. "Yeah. I get it. If we can like how we look in photos, maybe we can like ourselves in real life too." She nods. "I resonate with that."

Max doesn't know how this girl could draw up such a conclusion from how minimal her response had been, but the more she thinks about it, the more Max realizes that this girl may be onto something. Not the whole picture, perhaps, but enough to strike a chord. It's almost eerie, in a way, how easily she can analyze subtle clues, making Max seem more transparent without really meaning to.

"You're insightful," Max points out, and the girl smiles. Max sits up on the grass and crosses her legs together, eyes pointing at the cityscape in the distance, before wandering back to the stranger beside her. "I find it hard to believe you don't have any 'real' friends."

The girl sits up too, and she laughs softly under her breath. She cranes her head up at the sky for a brief moment before letting it droop. "Okay, you're right," she says. "I do have one friend, a great girl. She's about as real as I can get with someone back home, but not as real like I am here, talking to you. But here's the thing. She's a little too dependent on me, I think. I love going out with different people and having fun whenever, you know? I like being free to do whatever. But sometimes, she makes me feel bad for doing those things that I like doing, because she's not exactly into all that stuff, and then she gets bummed because I don't spend all my time with her."

She inhales, pauses, and puffs out a heavy sigh. "I love her, honestly. She's awesome. She's fun. Loyal as hell. She's got my back more than anyone in this world. And I do spend time with her! But, she drains me sometimes. I don't know." She bites her lip. "Maybe it's because I'm the only friend she really has. It's part of the reason why I like going out with other people, even if they're not really friends. I just need space. To be me." The girl glimpses at Max, although Max can't see her eyes through those dark sunglasses. "Also, I think she has a crush on me, so that's probably why she gets jealous sometimes."

Max feels herself nodding along. "How do you feel about her?" Max asks. "Romantically. If it's not too prying, I mean."

The girl lets out a sincere chuckle. "I don't mind," she says. She brings her knees closer to her chest and hugs herself, gaze getting lost in her surroundings. "I really like her. And I might have some feelings for her… but, I can't be in a relationship with her. I don't know what I want, honestly, and I'm not gonna put her through that. I think that's part of the reason I like hooking up with lots of people, because I'm trying to find what I want, who I want, what kind of person I wanna be when I'm with someone I want. I'm trying to fill a void that can't be filled. But even if I did know what I want, and it was her, I still wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Our relationship dynamics are totally out of sync," she says. "Makes it hard for me to be on the same level as her when she places me on some pedestal. And the sad part is, I think it'll always be that way." Her lips are carved into a frown, and she rests her chin on top of her knees. "Sorry. I just dumped a shitload of my personal problems on you. You're a great listener."

"I don't mind at all," Max says, offering her a warm smile. "I like observing. It's why I love photography so much." The girl smiles back, but it's slight, and kind of sad. "I'm surprised at how open you are with me," Max adds. "Especially since you don't know me."

"Please," the girl says, and she cracks into a grin. "Opening up to a stranger? That shit's easy. I can spit out my heart without really worrying about what I can and can't say. Opening up to people you know is what's fucking hard. Don't really know who to trust and what I can trust them with."

Max nods. She's never really thought of it that way, and she certainly doesn't feel the same, but it adds another perspective, another lens that is used to capture this world and all the inner workings within it. It's mesmerizing, listening to this girl and her ways of thinking.

"You got someone like that?" the girl suddenly asks, her gaze falling onto Max. "Not someone who has a crush on you; I mean, someone you'd trust with your life."

Max can feel her stomach twist into knots; she can feel every fiber in her muscles stiffen. Her heart dives further into her chest as cold blood sweeps through each individual vein within her system. Nostalgia fills her mind as well as sorrow. The only face that flashes in front of her eyes is the one person Max left behind long ago, in another lifetime, with a Max that was young and saw the world differently than she does now. Even now, with her new friends, Max couldn't say she'd trust them more than Chloe. There has never been anyone she could trust more than Chloe.

"Yeah," Max finally says, voice low. "Well, I did. She was my best friend in my hometown, before I left."

The girl leans in with anticipation, and she quirks a brow. "And?"

Max swallows a lump in her throat. "I just left," she utters, her voice almost inaudible. "I never called her. I never sent a letter. I just… left. She was my best friend. I didn't even say goodbye."

The girl frowns and hangs her head to the side, as if to analyze her. "I'm sure you have your reasons," she says. "But it sounds like you really regret it. And it sounds like you miss her a lot. So why not call her?"

"I don't know," Max stammers out, "if it'll even matter. So much time has passed. We're probably too different. We could never pick up where we left off."

"You're probably right about that last point," the girl points out. "But just because it's not the same where you left it at, doesn't mean that it'll be worse. Could be better than the friendship that was there to begin with. And you never know how things'll go unless you actually do something about it. Time doesn't mean shit. Some bonds go beyond that. I believe in that wholeheartedly."

Max's eyes fixate on this mystery girl with wonder. Never before has a stranger been so honest, so thought-proving, and so enchanting. Max feels light, almost weightless, the conversation shared between them lifting a burden off of her shoulders. And maybe she's wrong, and maybe she's bad at reading people, but Max has a hunch that this girl feels the same. Just by the way she talks and in the way she smiles. A catharsis.

"Shit," the girl says. Max notices that she's holding a phone in her hand and is proceeding to stand up. "I gotta go. My… travel buddy is kinda mad at me for sneaking off without him." She rubs the back of her neck and flashes a regretful smile.

Max stands up too, and her eyes fall onto the girl's sunglasses. Max still can't see into her eyes. No matter how open this girl has been with her today, there are still parts of her that she's repressing. A mystery.

"I never got your name," Max says.

The girl shakes her head. "No names," she says. "I don't know you and you don't know me. Keeps things simple."

Max shoots her a puzzled look. "Does it matter? I don't think I'll ever see you again."

"Yeah," the girl says, voice hushed and with a tinge of sadness. "Probably not." She smiles. "I'll never forget you, though. And that's what matters. Kinda romantic, don't you think?"

"Yeah. I guess it is."

Max just stands there as the space between them widens with every step the girl takes. Before fading into the distant horizon, the girl glances over her shoulder and throws up her arms in a huge wave. Max waves back at her, smiling at her even if she can't see it, and perhaps this girl is smiling too. And then she is gone, never to be seen again.

But never to be forgotten.

 _Fin._


End file.
